Somber
by Hiph
Summary: “Got yourself in a bit of a pickle there, didn’t ya?”


**Disclaimer:** I don't own the newsies. Doi.

**AN:** Hola and welcome to fic the second. Wow, hola looks a lot like aloha, just backwards and with no "a" on the end... o_O;

This fic is just a piece of fluff I came up with to sort of describe Jack and David's relationship, but before they officially knew each other. I kinda wondered how they became friends so quickly.... my spin on it, I suppose. _Could_ be read as slash, but they're like twelve and thirteen... so yeah... it's up to you. There's a little big of smooch-age, but like, it's friendly.

And just use your imagination for Jack's accent. I'm too damn lazy to figure it out.

**PS: **To everyone who reviewed the second chapter of Behind the Cafeteria, I'm sending you love... *blows kisses*

--

The day had started out like any other sullen, dismal day of my childhood; wake up at an unbearable hour, eat runny, cold oatmeal for breakfast, then sent off to the social hell-hole entitled school. There, the only joy I ever experienced was when I earned the top mark, which was often, and for that I was shunned. Every day brought on a new slew of painful teasing and taunting that I endured with gritted teeth.

I trudged along the murky, puddle-filled cobblestone walkways of the city on my trek to school when I passed a gang of boys in my class, who sat laughing on a street corner. They all had a good two or three years on me, the result of being held back several times. The boys spotted me, and looking for a little fun and entertainment to start off the morning, stood to follow behind me. They started their routine of snide remarks about my awkward curly hair, ill-fitting clothes, and unwillingness to ever be quiet. Just like every day before that, I didn't acknowledge their presence, and tried to erase them from my mind, to immerse myself in my thoughts. I could handle whatever comments they spat at me, I had for the past six years, ever since I had started kindergarten.

But then one of the boys took it too far, making a derogatory comment concerning my sister, Sarah. That struck a chord deep within me, and all the self-constraint I had built up was now shattered, and the next moment found me lunging at the boy, wiry limbs flying, attempting to mangle the mouth that had sent stinging words at me for so long. 

But, even in a passionate rage, brandishing new strengths that I had never before known I possessed, I was quickly overcome by the boy's friends, and I was only able to get a couple of weak punches in before being dragged by four boys by my arms into a secluded alley. I struggled, desperate to get lose, mentally hitting myself for being an idiot.

Once they reached the end of the alley, I was thrown against the wall, where the boys created a circle around me, yelling, kicking, screaming, punching. I cowered and cried, feeling the sharp toes and rounded knuckles pummel my body, each pain forgotten when a new one was inflicted.

But then I heard a yelp, and after a moment's consideration, I knew that I wasn't the one that emitted it. Soon after there was a crash, like a body against metal. More sounds of scuffling, and punches being delivered, but not to me. Curious, I moved my hand away from their position over my eyes, and blinked to rid them of the tears that had formed.

The sight that greeted me was one of a boy, about a year older than me, crouched down to my level, a radiant smile plastered across his face. To his right, I saw one of my attackers, lying in a nest of toppled trash cans. I could hear small shoes smacking against pavement, and looked over the strange boy's shoulders to see the rest of the boys running back into the street, some limping or cradling their arms. After seeing that I was awake and functioning, the boy spoke.

"Got yourself in a bit of a pickle there, didn't ya?"

I just groaned in response, due to the fact that I was racked with pain, and this stranger was just teasing me more, which was how I got in the situation in the first place. I tried to get up, to get out of the alley, to get away from that boy. But as I started to rise on my shaky legs, more pain seared right up my spine, and I collapsed back down, resigning myself to just sitting on the dingy street, flanked by a grinning baboon. He touched my shoulder, and I let out a shriek, and his smile turned upside down.

"Wow, you really aren't in good shape, those scabs got you worse than I thought." He glanced at me thoughtfully for a moment before speaking again.

"I'll be _right_ back," and he took off down the alley at a fast sprint.

Intuitively, I tried to get up to follow him, but couldn't manage to move without my whole body stinging. So, I sat alone in the alley, and after a few dull moments, I closed my eyes and fell asleep, enjoying the escape from the omnipresent pain.

My next memory was of being shaken awake by the boy again, and, seeing that my eyes were open, he thrust a mug full of water at my face.

"Drink."

I gave him a withering glance -- I knew what to do with water. But I never spoke the words, as I realized how parched I was, and greedily gulped down the entire contents of the cup. Wiping my mouth on my sleeve, I turned my face up to get a good look at the boy. He had scraggly light brown hair that seemed a little greasy, a smooth, golden face, and teasing brown eyes. He also had a battered blue bandanna tied around his neck, a curious piece of wardrobe. The boy smiled down at me, speaking softly.

"Better get you home."

I tried once again to stand up, this time succeeding, albeit with much help from the wall. Puffing, I leaned heavily against the brick, and the boy came forward. Slinging my left arm around this neck, and his right arm around my waist, he hesitantly took a step forward. I followed, leaning heavily against his shoulder. He was a good five inches taller than me, and seemed able to handle my weight remarkably.

Steadily, we wobbled out of the alley, and I pointed him in the direction of my home. We walked on, and he gradually showed signs of exhaustion, his breathing becoming heavier as we passed each block. When I pointed out that my building was just down the street, he smiled brightly, and quickly regained energy, dutifully dragging me the rest of the way there. We trekked up the lonely stair-well to my floor, and quietly walked along the halls, with its dingy floor and faded walls. The boy set me down in front of my door, and gazed down at me.

"Don't get into anymore trouble," he warned, genuine concern protruding from his normally light eyes.

I nodded my head, then smiled cheekily.

"But you'll always be there to save me."

He laughed, dimples dotting the sides of his tanned face. He reached his hands up to his neck, pulling on the bandanna and untying the knot. He kneeled, placing the bandana on the nape of my neck, his head positioned adjacent to mine. Wrapping the blue cloth around my neck, he deftly tied a knot in the front. He turned his head slightly to whisper in my ear.

"A special keepsake...."

As he brought his head away from mine, I looked into his eyes, and realization hit -- I had no idea who this person was. Curiosity swelling, I blurted out the burning question.

"Who are you?"

He smiled again, and brought his head back down to its previous position. He kissed the side of my cheek, and came away with an even brighter grin.

"Your angel."

I just stared dumb-founded. He _did_ seem like an angel -- a golden aura enveloped him, and he was there to save me at my worst of times. I snapped out of my reverie as he raised his arm, knocking loudly on the door behind my head. With one last reassuring glance, the boy turned on his heel and sprinted down the hall.

I heard my mother's hurried footsteps and surprised gasp as she opened the door to find me lying there, bruised and shaken. Wasting no time, she cleaned me up and set me to bed, mumbling about finding the culprits and giving them a good licking. She finally left me to rest, and as I passed into the realm of sleep, the boy's face floated into view, smiling, winking, repeating those two words....

_Your angel...._

--

Okie, it doesn't feel like I'm finished. I tried all these alternate ending sort of things, but they all kind of ruined the initial story. If it doesn't make sense, tell me, I'll remove the story and work on it. 

Muchos love.


End file.
